Three Minutes to Doomsday: An Agent, a Traitor, and the Worst Espionage Breach in U.S. History by Joe Navarro

Author:Joe Navarro [Navarro, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781501128295
Google: cDWMDAAAQBAJ
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 30755118
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

12

THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING?

Backstory: She-Moody and I leave Orlando a little after one-thirty in the morning, arrive at the Tampa FBI office (where I wake up Terry and walk her to her car) a shade after two-thirty, and then I head for home. My daughter is sleeping, of course, but as I cradle her face in my hands, she opens her eyes just for an instant. Will she think it a dream in the morning? I have no idea what time I fall asleep, but the alarm gets me up at 5:55 a.m. I leave a note propped up on the breakfast table for Luciana and Stephanie that reads, “I Love You,” but I’ve done this so many times, they have to take it on faith.

Strangely enough, as I head toward the office, I find myself thinking about astronauts and moon rocks. Just about the first thing Neil Armstrong did when he set foot on the moon was to reach down in his Michelin Man spacesuit, pick up a rock, and stow it in his utility pocket. Why? Because that rock was his insurance. If everything else went to hell in a handbasket as soon as they started walking around the lunar surface and he and Buzz Aldrin had to hop back in their Eagle lander and blast off for Michael Collins and Apollo 11, they would still have that rock to show for the 239,000 miles they’d traveled and the infinite dangers of their journey.

That’s what Rod’s confession was last night—our moon rock, enough to go to trial on, enough to satisfy the statute on at least one count of espionage, enough to put Rod Ramsay in the prison cell he so deserved to occupy. If, of course, I hadn’t “fucked the whole business to high heaven,” as Koerner had put it, with an implied prosecutorial waiver.

When I call Jane Hein, my trusted friend and now case supervisor at FBI headquarters, on the secure phone at 8:00 sharp, I decide to concentrate on the good news only. She’ll have already had her morning run. I know how religious she is about it because years ago back in the Big Apple we used to run together when the city was just waking up. We stayed side by side for the first half mile or so, but after that all I saw was Jane’s butt and elbows—that woman can cover ground.

“Jane, are you sitting?” I ask, in my best early-morning voice.

“Why?”

“Are… you… sitting?” I repeat, spacing my words out, making sure I have her full attention.

“I am, Joe. Break it to me gently. What happened now? How bad is it?”

“O ye of little faith,” I say.

“Is this going to cost me my retirement?” she asks, sipping on her morning tea.

“You sure you’re sitting?”

“Yes, dammit, let’s hear it!”

“Ramsay confessed last night.”

“What?” Jane wants to make sure she heard right.

“Ramsay confessed last night, in front of Moody and me.”

“Holy shit, are you serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack, Jane. He confessed.”

“To what, exactly?”

“To taking documents from the G-3 vault.

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